How I became a Ginger Ninja

After years of torment at the hands of my older sister (who was sweetness&light in front of my mother but was extremely bossy and a bit of a bully in private) and a particularly nasty group of boys a couple of years above me at school who used to throw rocks at me whenever I dared venture towards the playground, I decided enough was enough.

I was going to learn Kickboxing.
I nervously went to my first lesson on a Sunday when I was around 16.
Two hours later I emerged, barely breathing, bright red, wet with sweat and with cracked knuckles..

Perhaps surprisingly, I began going every Sunday after that.

It was HARD! The instructor would push you to almost breaking point, enforcing continued situps by standing full on your stomach if you stopped or fell behind the count.

We would begin with sit-ups, press-ups, leg stretches, balancing exercises, circuits of the hall, more balancing exercises, a few more circuits, running on the spot THEN begin the hit combinations..

After a seemingly infinite amount of jabs, hooks, crosses, roundhouse kicks, push kicks, side kicks, ducking, leaning, rolling, elbow combos and knee combos we would finally move to sparring..

Every week I would dread going, remembering the pain of the previous week - still nursing my bruised knuckles and aching arms, legs and stomach.
But after the lesson I would feel such a rush of adrenaline, feel so energised despite tiredness that I always went back.

I began to go to gradings to earn belts, slowly climbing up the ranks and getting stronger and faster, improving my stamina week by week. I would do 150-200 sit ups every morning before school and every evening before bed. My knuckles became solid and my stomach rock hard. I could both see and feel my arms getting stronger.

Needless to say, I had no problem telling my sister I would no longer be her lacky, and the group of boys at school left me well alone.

Unfortunately I had to leave town for university a month before taking my brown belt grading, and thus would be doomed to remain a purple belt for the foreseeable future.

But it mattered not, for I had become the ultimate fighting machine:

The Ginger Ninja!

Larry The Litterbug

My first ever comic strip was a joint project with my friend Laura at primary school.

We used to draw things all the time and were at that time working on various projects for a school newsletter, such as interviews with the teachers, pupil's favourite school dinners and the new baby sister of a member of the class.
You know, the usual.

We decided we needed to come up with something a bit less serious and "newsy", so thought maybe a cartoon of some kind would lighten the formal journalistic tone..

Doodling away at random sketches, we somehow came up with a character that took our breath away with his awesomeness:
Larry The Litterbug

Larry would be a clean and conscientious bug who would take a firm stance on mess and the environmentally unfriendly.
He would go out of his way to admonish those who flaunted the rules (of litter-dropping).
He would be a force for good in this sinful litter-dropping world.

We wrote a fair few stories about Larry. We even developed a voice for him (obviously for when TV producers found our scribblings and demanded to buy the rights).

I'm not sure if he ever ended up in the newsletter, I have a feeling me and Laura found that we had stumbled into something too powerful for us to handle.. so Larry remained a relative secret to all but a few privileged souls..


Long live Larry the Litterbug: A hero to many, a friend to all and a slave to none.

Recurring Dreams: Spider Attack!

I have always had recurring dreams.
Some good, some bad.
When I was a kid, mainly bad!

Luckily in my adult life these recurring nightmares seem to have mainly been replaced by the downright weird (Gathering up stray cats in a floating ice cream van after central London has been engulfed in water, anyone?).

I am at least aware of the origins of one of these recurring nightmares: the movie Arachnophobia.
It was on the television one night and I really did not want to watch it. I also didn't want to go upstairs on my own because I was already creeped out for some reason or another.
So there I was, waiting for my older sister to come up to bed with me, trying desperately to keep my eyes on my sketchbook... failing miserably and being witness to massive spiders galore!!

For weeks afterwards I had the same dream:
I was sat alone on the sofa when suddenly giant spiders would approach from every direction.
I was powerless, glued to the sofa, just waiting and watching as they crept closer and closer....

I would dream this every night and feared the time I had to close my eyes and go to sleep because I knew what was waiting for me..

Then one day my family and I went to a science centre - you know, one of those places where you get to try out lots of different things and learn about how the human body works etc..
Well, my mum spotted a section on the human mind.
In the room on a table was a box.
A Dream Box.

Oh the claims it made! Allegedly all you had to do was write down or draw a picture of the nightmare you had been having and put it in the box. Once there, the box would contain that dream, and all the worry associated with it..

A miracle! Maybe I could get away from those blasted spiders for good!
I nervously drew my picture and put it in the box...

That night as I got tucked up in bed, I thought about the Dream Box.
There's no doubt I was skeptical, I had but also secretly had fingers on both hands crossed for the spiders to have vanished from my sleeping life.

I had no need to worry, I drifted off and all night dreamed pleasant dreams of kitties and candyfloss and all the lovely things that should fill a young girl's mind.

I know as a rational human being that the nightmares went away due to trickery of the mind and by writing my worries down I had externalised them and therefore lessened them.

But part of me still wants to believe it was also a little bit magic..

I should play the lottery more!

I have played the lottery 6 times in the past year.

Here are the outcomes of THREE of these occasions:

I think I should play the lottery more!!

Michael Jackson and my awesome mother!

When I was growing up I, like many people, was utterly obsessed with Michael Jackson.
I couldn't imagine a cooler person and was mesmerised by his singing, his dancing, clothes, everything.

I would spend hours listening and singing along to his music, trying out the dance moves with my friend Doug.

Doug could emulate every move Michael Jackson did perfectly.
He would slide, step and moonwalk his way around the wooden floor of his mum's kitchen.

I could do nothing more than stumble and step around in time (usually) with the beat.

I was SO jealous!!

Turn's out I'd never grow up to be the female MJ at this rate!

My 8th birthday was coming up so I went down to the shops with my mum to look at potential presents.

We'd got a few things and the shops had started to close when, in one of the many charity shop windows, I spotted the most awesome birthday present I could possibly imagine!

It was a gold jacket.

One very similar (to my untrained eyes at least) to a military style one MJ had worn on tour..

I just HAD to have it!

Being in a charity shop, it was only a couple of pounds so my mum bought it as I tugged on her sleeve excitedly.

It was massively too big for me but I insisted on wearing it for my whole birthday, pulling the sleeves around my elbows all day.

It turned out my mum had also made me a special birthday cake.

It had black, grey and white icing with the shapes of a hat and white glove on it.

The glove even had silver edible balls on it to make it look shiny like MJ's white glove!!

I decided then and there that I officially had the coolest mother in the world!!

London life #1: Zooming!

This happens everywhere really, but it is very common in London where everyone is in a rush 99% of the time.

You're walking down the street. Very fast.
Maybe you're late for a meeting. Perhaps you're hurrying to catch a train.
Most often you just want to get home after work as quickly as possible..

You are walking about as fast as you can without breaking into a jog. You could do just that but no, you want to look purposeful.
Only thieves and weirdos JOG down the street in London without wearing a tracksuit! And even then..

Someone exits a building next to you and starts walking in the same direction. At exactly the same pace!

You can't walk any faster and you don't want to slow down. Why should you?
You want to get home, dammit!

So here you are, walking with a total stranger.
You feel uncomfortable, awkward.
You find yourself resenting them, hoping they'll trip and fall..

You start to wonder if they're doing it on purpose to unnerve you.
Maybe they're stalking you.
Maybe they're just waiting until you turn down a quiet road to mug you..

What if this kindly looking old man is the serial killer you saw on Crimewatch that time..

He looks a bit shifty..

HOW CAN THAT OLD GUY WALK SO FAST ANYHOW...??



There is only one thing for it...

Sketches and scribbles

ARGH! Don't you just hate it when you have the image in your mind of what your drawing will look like, then as soon as you put pencil to paper it just goes horribly wrong!!

I thought I'd try my hand at drawing my, frankly beautiful, Boyface, and he came out looking like a rather lopsided transvestite. And not a convincing transvestite (you know, the ones that it's only on the second take that you realise, "Hey, wait a minute that girl's a BOY!") but the kind towering above everyone with a deep voice and a 5 o'clock shadow...
 To allow you to appreciate the awfulness of this drawing, I felt I should post it- as this blog should be as much about the journey as anything.

In all fairness this was my first attempt at "proper" drawing, as opposed to cartoon types, for a very very long time. But still...

I may have to keep on practicing. And maybe not attempt to work from memory next time!!

I did doodle a couple of other pics I was a bit happier with late last night while half watching the TV, so I'll share those as well for good measure..

Fare thee well for now! xx

Drunken Games: #2 - Where are you, Witch?

In all honesty I can't remember if this is a real existing game or if we made it up in our drunken stupor..

Best played in the countryside, due to the creepiness and to increase difficulty when seeking.
It's basically a reverse version of Hide and Seek - one person (the Witch) hides while the others (the Angry Mob) hunt for her/him..

Torches are allowed for the Angry Mob, who also get 3 chances to shout "Where are you, Witch??"
The Witch must cackle as loudly as possible.

The Witch can move in between cackles, but must remain in the same general area after the final one.

I was almost always the Witch, due to my very loud, uncanny witch-like cackle.
I would often sneak around and take a member of the Angry Mob hostage as well, just to increase the scare factor.

"Heheheheheheheheee!"

Drunken Games: #1 - Murder in the Dark

When I was a teenager living in the countryside, there was not much to do. So we decided to make our own entertainment.
Getting very drunk and playing silly games was a common theme.

If you're looking to be freaked out and excited in equal measure, I would recommend playing Murder in the Dark.

1. Find a big(ish) house with lots of nooks and crannies.

2. Move objects out of the way that could do damage (nobody likes falling down stairs or losing an eye!)

3. Prepare pieces of paper- all saying "victim" apart from one saying "murderer"

4. Fold the paper and pick out of a hat- don't let anybody else see your paper

5. Turn off the lights and scatter (give people 5 minutes to hide)

6a) If you're a victim, hide! Choose somewhere out of the way but escapable in an emergency. Also, somewhere comfortable and quiet (no leaning on crunchy carrier bags etc) with a view of the room entrance. You'll appreciate this if the murderer approaches..

6b) If you're the murderer you can start looking for victims and "killing" (usually a tap on a particular shoulder as decided beforehand) them. Or you can be sneaksy and pretend you are a victim, hiding somewhere you are sure other victims will go to and then pounce..

My friends always chose the latter.

7. Pee your pants!!

Introverted Ninja

When I was a child, I was a strange mix of introvert and extrovert.
On the one hand I loved drama, dancing, singing, making up plays and recording radio shows with my sisters.
On the other hand I loved reading, writing and drawing and just wanted to be left alone to do so.

These two sides of myself have, over the years, fought many a feud. I feel they have now reached some kind of middle ground:
i.e I avoid places involving PEOPLE and NOISES and DISTRACTIONS when needed but then occasionally go to a big party or sing onstage or join a dance group.

I would often feel agitated when my calm was disturbed. Whether in communal areas, where the blaring TV or inane chatter would feel like steady drilling to the brain.

Or in the kind concern of my mother (who must have been worried at her daughter voluntarily locking herself away..) when shut up alone in my room.

I would get into moods when all I truly wanted in the world was a book to whisk me off to magical lands or a pen and paper to create my own..

I soon found a couple of hiding places to exercise my creativity in peace.
There was a wall next to our shed. If I climbed onto this, I could easily climb onto the shed roof and avoid being seen by my siblings playing merrily in the garden.

This became one of my favourite spots; a place I could indulge in creativity while still able to run out and play on the swings if I felt the need.

It was also where I would run to if I felt sad or worried, a sanctuary for my imagination.